Sina
by vampchick.artgmail.com
Summary: In Sina, blind faith was the sharpened knife. There lived a bitter, superstitious people, who followed the word-revelation of his messenger-preacher. One, one, one. Blessed be Sina and her messenger


In Sina, blind faith was the sharpened knife. There lived a bitter, superstitious people, who followed the word-revelation of his messenger-preacher. One, one, one. Blessed be Sina and her messenger

In a small village that had grown between the black sea of icy waters and the mountain of whispers, which stretched high into the clouds, there was a bitter and superstitious people following the revelatory words of a preacher-messenger. This was not one to shout his preaching on the street. Mr. Neimwe knocked door-to-door, introducing himself politely; there was a glow in those dark brown eyes, a strange magnetism in the man who made himself invited to a coffee in any house. And when the man was seen, walking through the dark streets and intersections of little Sina, entering the houses and carefully leaving behind the burgeoning seeds of fanaticism, all masked with familiar words, in his mantra of "One, one, one. Blessed be Sina and her messenger. "

Sina was a village, or a cluster of small wooden houses that filled a small clearing, coastal with the Black Sea and cornered by the dense forest that embraced every mountain of the whispers. The people have an ancient custom of decorating the village with mirrors, walking through the alleys they see the wandering glow of the small mirrors, tied in windows, doors and roofs. The old men of Sina tell that the mirrors are the atonement of the sins of all the souls that have already stepped on this earth.

Angara had long felt something dubious and questionable about the preacher. When Lord Neimwe visited his home, she would watch her parents and grandparents listening to her preaching hypnotized. Neimwe himself had a few seasons less than Angara's grandmothers, but he was said to be the bearer of immense wisdom, the holder of all answers to all questions and all absolute truths. Everyone seemed to agree blindly with all his words. Everyone in the sole choir of "Blessed be Sina and her messenger. One one one."

Bri was one of the girls who felt the chills of hearing the sermons, she was terrified to see the revelations being accepted and become law in the village. The manner in which the people readily embraced the preacher was impressive, and Bri feared the rebellion of her black hair, which flew about her like a storm. She also feared the way no one cared about the wise learning of the forest and the teachings of wise women.

In the many times that Anggara's friend, Gwena, came to her house, the two conspired in a low voice about the strange attraction that surrounded Neimwe, and how things seemed to be walking slowly toward something that would bring the whole village down with him. Neimwe's presence had contaminated Sina like an epidemic, but even so no soul seemed to have realized that the whole village was blinded by the dancing mirrors of the preacher's revelations.

People were becoming as close to each other as an anthill, the streets - already narrow - seemed to be more upbeat each day as the houses seemed to be closer. The mirrors reflecting what they get from the sunlight, projecting geometric shapes made of light into the beaten earth alleys. Like an army of one. One one one.

Neimwe cultivated an intense sense of community among the villagers, it was not uncommon for evenings when one of the houses would be open to the preacher-messenger's sermons. The elders had grown fond of him when all of Sina's old superstitions were rescued along with the new wave of union between the families. A significant part of the men had been touched so deeply by Neiwme's revelations that they practically followed him through the streets, "One, one, one. He is the way; He is the only way. Blessed be Sina and her messenger. "

The day after one of the nights when one of the families had opened her house to the now common meetings, an unknown girl was found wandering alone on the edge of the village, mumbling an endless mantra of words from a language that no one there ever had heard. She tried to flee the edge of the village, toward the forest, but was captured and put in front of the eyes of the people of Sina.

She had a lost look, different, barefoot, definitely the girl did not belong to Sina, nor the way she was still muttering foreign words in the village's ears. All the disgust and disgust imaginable was destined for that miserable being, words of hatred and revulsion, and in the midst of all the multitude was the preacher-messenger, pensive for a few more moments until he went to the center of the commotion.

As the messenger stood silently haughty in the midst of the tumult, the people around him were gradually silencing themselves as well. And it was only when everyone seemed to be still, ready to hear what he had to say, it was said that the messenger of Sina said:

"He is the way and the truth. Only him. The revealed truth is of the arrival of a witch. A demonic being and bearer of a horrible evil, a work of all that is rotten on the face of the earth. Blessed be Sina and her messenger. The revealed truth is that in every word she curses the good land Sina and all who live in her. "

The elders accepted the revelation, and again he had answers to all the questions, and his message was the final word. The village went into a frenzy with Neimwe's revelation. A witch threatened the place, and in the words of the messenger, she would bring horrifying horror to every place she allowed herself to be taken by the shadows and wickedness of the witch, rejecting Sina's values and the one, one, one.

Angara crept among the people until she could glance at the witch's face. In his head, it was something that was impossible to be happening, simply unacceptable; that girl did not raise her eyes from the floor, these adorned with dark circles - half purple - bruises gently marked in various parts of several glimpses of skin that could be seen. The whole sight of it made an icy chill go up to Angara's spine, but like a cake cherry, the girl's small lips were covered by her own blood, they continued to touch as her broken voice murmured in a tongue that was not spoken in Sina.

It had been two days since the witch's discovery in the village, the families together in the cause of not being overwhelmed by the sinful malice that would reach the place with the arrival of the girl who murmurs. Neimwe gave the floor to the elders of the village's oldest families, who claimed to understand the witch's evil purposes; agreed upon the revelations of the messenger-preacher, and certified all Sina that all the unspeakable words uttered by her were curses, plagues, and death-sentences. He thanked the elders for their speech, warning that every place they let themselves be corrupted will succumb to the perversion of the witch.

In the small house of Angara, his parents and grandparents were attending to Neimwe's preaching, the conversations became devotion to his word, revealed by the messenger-preacher of Sina, all that monophile of one, one, one and follow the word of advice of Sina. But in the house there was also a ray of sunshine, Angela's older sister, Khadini, who seemed too pleased with the life she had managed to call Neimwe's revelations. His sister's fiancé was a singular boy, calm, quiet and peaceful, with no complaints, no enemies, no addictions. Maviri was a boy who seemed to be pure in heart, and was in love with the bride Khadini, who was expecting the couple's first child, the girl's family and her mother, who had been a widow for many years.

Maviri went out to work with his friend Baal every morning, the two of them crossed the village on foot to reach the black sea, where they spent the day fishing. Lately just unscrewing rocks and shells from fishing nets. But since the girl who murmured was discovered on the edge of the village and the forest, no soul seemed to behave in the same way, this hysteria included Angara's brother-in-law. The boy seemed disturbed by the idea of being corrupted by the witch's plagues, changing the route from house to sea so as not to have to pass by the girl, repeating "Blessed be Sina and her messenger. One one one."

In the course of events, Neimwe advised the elders on the decisions that needed to be made at Sina. It was agreed to all, especially Neimwe, that she be exposed in the center of the village, without water or food to the height of the waning moon, in order to weaken her influence on that land.

From all the mouths of the village came words that seemed to be decorated, a similar speech, and a unique logic to the world around them, their faith in the word of the preacher-messenger, and their one, one, one, but above all about the preacher and the importance of Sina's values. There was a clear consensus, as dense as the haze that covered from the top of the mountain of whispers, flowing through the houses and merging with the mist of the sea as soon as it found the beach of dark stones.

Not even the drawings made of light on the floor made people look up, and the mirrors themselves reflected Sina's blindness. Inside the houses, at night meetings, voices worshiped one, one, one and asked Neimwe for a revelation about something that was already unanimous among all; The witch's death sentence. It was said that the messenger of Sina said:

"Blessed be he in his glory and mercy. Blessed be Sina and her messenger. One one one. Subjugated are those who practice witchcraft and deny Him as the only way and their messenger as the direction. Sinners do not take forbidden what was forbidden by him and his messenger and speak in forbidden languages in Sina. Those who are with him and his messenger are severe with the sinners and subdued. Blessed be Sina and her messenger. One one one."

Before the news could reach the house of Angara, her sister's fiance had completely disappeared. After three consecutive days without sleep and badly fed, the boy began to walk to the obsession, saying that it was already too late, Sina was cursed and everyone there would suffer. Maviri also developed an intense phobia with the figure of the human face; she could no longer look at the bride in her eyes, lower her head, and refuse to look at her mother.

Maviri barely left home and refused to receive his friend Baal, the alleys of the village were a labyrinth of people in endless back-and-forth. When the boy left the room on the third day, the bride was the first to see him; but facing him, Khadini saw only the very reflection of the piece of mirror Maviri held in front of his face.

Angela's parents and grandmothers seemed to ignore the sequence of events in that house in recent days, including the disappearance of Maviri. The witch's death sentence came as a good news, clouding the minds of Sina in a short time. Sina was blind. Angara dug a hole in the entrance of the house, filling it with a solitary pomegranate seed; while the earth covered her, she whispered Maviri.

On one of the mornings Gwena had joined her friend in picking up a small patch of strawberries as they crossed the mirrored alleys, they crossed Bri and Nur, the two young girls of the line and the loom. The two smiled at their friends, Nur taking from one of the pockets of the jacket a cotton patch tied with little colored ribbons, twisting her arm in the direction of Gwena and heading towards the Sea with Bri.

The two followed behind the house of Angara, and discussed banalities when the subject of the witch appeared. The two looked at each other, the wind blew ruffled Anggara's hair and made the colored ribbons in Gwena's hair dance behind the two, the mirrors hanging from the tree gleamed.

There was a suspended connection between the rise of Neimwe's influence over the families of the village, carefully constructed with the slow passing of several generations, and the arrival of the foreign witch in that cursed land. They both feared the day when, under the preacher's influence, the first witch would be tried, because they knew this would not be the last.

Last night Gwena had woken up with the zum-zum-zum outside the house, put on a heavy coat of cold over her nightgowns, put on her boots on the side of the bed, and proceeded to the sounds she heard. Suspicious whispers from older brothers introduced the girl-girl into the scene. In one corner of the yard rested what had been a bonfire, glowing embers and ashes covered set in a hole in the floor.

As Baal and Caslu conspired on the magical brazier, Gwena kept her expressionless face; Before they both realized she was there, she disappeared into one of the alleys. Among the little mirrors hanging reflecting the morning sun and the congestion of people, Gwena collapsed with familiar faces; Ehjjil and Thari, the young boys of the fishing nets, the sons of old Fauti.

The older man smiled at her. "Blessed be Sina and her messenger." As usual, she returned. - "So be it."

The two friends met later that day, walking together by the stones of the beach, admiring the sea of dark waters, so cold and deep that are themes arising in the legends and creeds of Sina. Following the long path of stones and sand that led to the old lighthouse that forever faced the exit to the open sea, the two saw in the distance a cluster of people amidst a discreet argument.

In the midst of the little commotion was Sina's messenger. It was possible to hear from afar the heated discussion about the mysteries of the night before, there were other reports of witches calling the souls of Sina to the gates of hell-forest-hell and burning fires and ashes found in the dawn of day. Some families had reported to the preacher-messenger and the-newly formed-council of the elders that one could hear songs in a language that was not allowed in Sina.

Again, there was an implicit consensus on who would have been responsible for carrying out these acts against Sina. There were no suspicions or second opinions on the subject that evening, when this time the house of Angara was the one to house the village meeting, it was where all pointed to the waning moon in the night sky, "A sign from Him, who intercedes for Sina with the truth of her revelations. Blessed be Sina and her messenger. One, one, one. "And the moon watched in disgust and in disgust at the clamor of death that followed.

Later, soon after the meeting, the families moved to the old part of town, where the ancient buildings, which held Sina's past, reached the edge of a river, which wound sinuously down the mountain of whispers until it reached the sea . For most of the year the river was frozen, while for the rest of the year the waters remained as cold as.

That night, much of the village was following Neimwe toward the river of ice, some people hid their faces holding mirrors reflecting any kind of humanity. Next to the preacher, he followed the witch. Nearly drawn by two people, while all of Sina gathered together, she cheered and thanked for the end of the witch's curse in the village, and all the girl did was mutter incomprehensible words in a tearful, melancholy tone, an endless mantra of foreign verses.

Gewna and Angara followed the procession from the meeting, following the torches that lit the way through the old houses of the older part of the village, towards the bright spots that the two could see in the distance. Nur and Bri hid in the little house of Sina's old woman, the two wove a blanket on the loom while the old woman sewed a patchwork quilt. Three of them looked at each other-their hair all tied in braids, the hair of the old woman entwined in a mass of gray wires-but nothing was said.

The witch was brought to her knees, exposed skin touching the grass that covered the riverbank, while Neimwe stood beside her, one of her hands traced her black hair until she pulled them back with force exposing her face . Some people were centered around the scene, armed with kitchen knives, screwdrivers and hatchets, Neimwe approached one of the people, who offered a knife to the messenger, taking the object by the handle of wood and returned to the focus of all , and it was said that the messenger of Sina said:

"All united, all one. One one one. Blessed be Sina and her messenger. With Him are those who refuse to be subdued by the plagues and curses that evil brings to Sina. All united, all one. One one one. Blessed be Sina and her messenger. He is the way. He is the only way. By him shall we deliver our souls from perdition. "

The moment they all expected came when Sina's messenger struck a violent blow against the witch's face, the blade dividing the skin in two and opening a deep, wide cut on the cheek. It was a few seconds of genuine silence until the crowd clamored for more, some faces there from the respectable Sina people; mothers, fathers, grandparents, siblings. While some faces were unrecognizable, covered by mirrors.

When the crowd cried for more, the preacher tenderly answered the requests, slowly cutting the witch's face; one, two, three, four times. Making cuts all over her face, making warm blood trickle down her neck, reddening her pale skin and letting drops of blood smear apathetic grass beneath her.

The thing that bothered Neimwe the most, is that even with her face completely shredded, she kept muttering, each time with more intensity, without pauses. And because of this continual act, the messenger took his insistence by rebellion, and someone like him could not admit such audacity of such a rotten being. The man who normally seemed so controlled-and controlling-seemed to have abandoned his composure as he held the girl by the hair, lifting his face and exposing him to the crowd.

And when all Sina could see the face of the damned witch, her eyes seemed to cry blood, the liquid dripping over her eyes as she looked at the people by the red filter of her own blood. And for the first time, she was silent.

Neimwe's blade tore at the girl's throat, partially cutting her throat with the softness and delicacy with which she sacrificed a pig. The witch was dead. The village at the foot of the mountain of whispers was free from the curse of the witch.

Finally, after long minutes of contemplation following the last spasms of the tiny body on the ground, Gwenaa and Angara watched petrified as their parents, brothers, neighbors, and acquaintances quartered the girl. Always listening to the chorus - "Blessed be Sina and her messenger. One, one, one. "The body was divided into seven parts, counting the head, and this, was wrapped in a red robe. But neither would know whether it was the color of the cloth or whether it was impregnated with the witch's blood. The other parts were being tied together with heavy stones and thrown into the icy waters of the river.

On the way home, the two young girls sought a place among the old, time-worn buildings. Behind what was a house, Gwena dug a tiny hole in her hands, her lips sealed silently; Angara carefully laid a solitary seed of poppy on the ground while the two covered the hole, a name was whispered. When they had all returned home, Bri and Nur had said goodbye to the old woman with tight embraces, then ventured into the labyrinth of Sina alleys, the two separated at one of the intersections, each heading to their nest.

In the days following the execution, all continued to act in the same compulsory routine of Neimwe and the council, and of all the disinterested souls of Sina, the older sister of Angara seemed the stranger. Khadini cared little for anything but the baby she carried; Angara found this fixation strange that seemed to have become even more peculiar after the arrival of the murmuring girl.

Khadini was getting closer and closer to the birth of her first child, Maviri, named after her father, her fiancé. And the lack of reaction of the girl to the disappearance of the groom intrigued everyone in the family, which had intensified with the proximity of Maviri's birth. Each day more isolated, her sister spoke to no one else and refused to leave her own room, the only one that seemed to be worthy of her attention was Maviri.

The week after the witch's death, her behavior became increasingly disturbing; she would wake up in the middle of the night screaming, claiming that someone would steal her baby. At the end of each night, Khadini seemed to be more certain that his precious Maviri would be taken from him, and his paranoia seemed only to increase as he became suspicious of his own parents.

And his suspicions seemed to confirm, when one morning the preacher knocked on the door of his house. Khadini's parents recounted the torments for which the daughter had been suffering, not missing the fiancé's disappearance, and Neimwe seemed to gauge that information carefully. He put one hand under his chin, his beard touching, his elongated face making an expression of interest visible, and after a while, Neimwe gave the village another revelation. It was said that the messenger of Sina said:

"Blessed be He, the only way and the only truth. The revealed truth is that this land was corrupted by the witch. Righteous are the ones who are allowing evil to continue to take root in this land. Blessed be Sina and her messenger. One, one, one. "He coughed for a while, then continued. "The mother denied Sina's values and was touched by the plague. The child must be separated from the mother as soon as he is born, blessed be he in his glory and mercy. "

When Khadini realized that his parents were not against the idea, his days became a hell. The thought of having to stay away from Maviri, that little person he loves so much even though he never saw him, was dying for himself. On some nights, when Angela was passing by her sister's door, she could hear her conversations with the baby.

"We'll be together, Maviri." "One, two, three." "All of us together forever."

In the last two days before her delivery, Khadini looked exhausted, her belly - already large and round - looked too heavy, she refused to eat and to sleep. She knew the preacher would not leave the house, and she knew when he would visit her parents, for he would not hide his presence, letting her voice echo through the corridors to the girl's room. And he was never alone.

When the birth day arrived, Neimwe was there to hear Khadini's shrill cries, patiently leaning against the doorframe, his ears attentive to the girl's despair and to the movement inside the house. Labor went on for long hours, and when little Maviri's cry might be from him, Khadini had almost all his strength consumed.

As the doula approached her, her eyes flashed as they met the chubby little face of her own son, and Maviri looked astonished to be received by her mother's arms, completely numbed by her scent. The moment brought a momentary peace to the dejected heart of Khadini; and for a moment all that existed was Maviri's breath against her skin, and the feel of that delicate skin she felt at her fingertips.

As soon as he had heard the cry of the child, the preacher entered the house, received by the girl's parents, and was led into a corridor, following in the direction of the sound of Khadini's cries. The girl, completely exhausted, stared at her son for the first time, the doula helping her hold him, snuggling the newborn into her mother's arms.

There were three hard knocks against the door. Khadini felt his spine freeze with the possibility. Does? His thoughts were interrupted by the gentle touch of the doula, wiping the sweat from his face, Khadini smiled in return, feeling a wave of panic run through his body.

Without the doula realizing it, the girl stretched somewhat to reach the long scissors with which the umbilical cord had been cut, there were three more beats as Khadini hid the scissors. In a few moments the door opened in a rapid movement, causing the latch to strike violently against the wall.

The doula was frightened and screamed, causing the girl's parents to enter the room, accompanied by the tall, blank figure, the wrinkled, wrinkled old face of the preacher's hair. Accommodated in one corner of the room, shrinking like an animal, was the eldest daughter of the family, with Maviri in her arms.

On that damned piece of land, these souls are cursed to witness the descent of Sina down the steps of fear of human madness, where what is believed is fuel for hatred. Where blind faith is a broken knife.

As Neimwe stood beside her, he stood still and impassive for a long moment. The crowd consequently quieted down, all ready for the trial of Sina's new storm. When all that could be heard was the noise of the river running on the stones and the words desperately murmured by Bri, Sina's messenger stretched out his arm toward the people, and a kitchen knife was placed on his hand.

Two deep cuts were made on the face of the witch, the two older elders of the village arose painfully and walked toward the messenger-executioner, a lock of Bri's black hair was guarded by the first, and the red ribbon that graced the wires was stored by the second. The messenger was pleased with what had been done and killed the witch in a single movement, while she choked on her own blood, the people had already begun to approach, knives and axes by hand.

Nur cried tears of funeral when he heard, the forest saddened with her and the birds sang, but this song that should, be a song of joy, sounds only like a sob of pain. The heavens revolted and let the rain fall mercilessly, muddy the alleys and mistreating the plantations. In front of Bri's house, from where she had been taken that morning, Nur planted a solitary poppy seed.

In the constant evening meetings, the elders warned that the source of all evil was the plague of witches and that whoever would be corrupted by sin would be doomed to suffer. Nothing was said about the girl-girl separated in seven and plunged in the bottom of the Ice River. The preacher only nodded, adding occasionally, especially to the recent disappearance of the eldest grandson of one of the elders, Kaim, who in the last days before disappearing had taken the habit of carrying a mirror in front of him own face. In front of the old man's house, another pomegranate seed rests.

In a few moons, the people of Sina had already run two witches and lost three sight boys, and before the number increased, Neimwe summoned the good people on a quest. They would walk from the beach of dark stones that reaches the Black Sea, to the old part of the city, at the foot of the mountain of the whispers. No one dared to enter the forest, and the preacher would not be the first to do so. For many generations Sina grew up feeding on stories about the land where they lived, superstitions that prevent any kind of rationalization, fear of the unknown, and ignorance. cozy to the people ..

Before disappearing, both Kaim and Ridan and Maviri had been seen walking in the old part of town, at the foot of the forest that embraced the mountain of whispers. Ever since the first person set foot on that land, the forest that led up the mountain is a path feared by many. The glow of Sina's sins reflected by the numerous mirrors did not reach the dense forest, much less dared to cross the trees.

When the search failed and the messenger revealed nothing to Sina, the people were at the edge of the forest, the elders hesitated; the fear of the unknown, of all those tall trees can hide. The old men recited "Blessed be Sina and her messenger. One, one, one. "And they pointed to three boys to enter the forest and search for Kaim, Maviri, and Ridan, if they did not return in three days, no further search would be sought by the council.

The three young men appointed to guide the search, Baal, Ehjjih and Thari, were taken to the house that would house the evening meeting and honored for their courage, faith in the one, one, one, and fidelity to Sina's values. Blessed be Sina and her messenger. Hours before sunrise, the souls dispersed from the house, and the younger heroes of Sina headed towards the forest, crossing the old buildings of the village in the eyes of the mountain.

Baal was one of Gwena's eldest brothers, the eldest of the family leading the two brothers through the trees, the three gazing on the ground for any sign of the missing, but the forest floor seemed to refuse to tell their secrets. Ehjjin and Thari were brothers, some seasons only of difference, no one really counted; They lived with their father, the old fisherman Fauti, a few houses away from where Bri had been ripped out that morning. Fear sewed the mouths of the two boys, and it was not said about the last execution, just looks between them talking in silence.

After a few hours of walking, the three of them could already see the first rays of sunlight kissing the treetops, letting some of their light drip into the forest floor. The imposing roots like veins and arteries connecting through that living floor. More clearly, one could see in the distance something tied to the trunk of a tree that was contorted by the wind.

Baal, at the head of the quest, quickened his pace until he saw a cloth dyed red that danced wildly to the rhythm of the breeze. When the brothers reached him, Baal had carefully untied the piece of cloth, folding it. As they headed toward the sunrise - or what you could see through the trees - the three boys reached a clump of stones on the floor, each one precisely placed next to the other, forming a path that followed to the mountain.

Thari felt his spine freezing, and he readily refused to climb the mountain. Getting into the forest is one thing, climbing the mountain is another. Ehjji hesitated, but followed his brother, looking for the others, but he would not go up the mountain. Baal ignored the two and followed the stone path, moving away from them and feeling the slope of the ground still with the red cloth in one hand.

The brothers did not question and went alone to the east, leaving behind the only one who really seemed to know where he was going. Further ahead, when the sun was already pinned above them, the brothers spotted in the distance another dangling sinuously in the wind, a long piece of red ribbon tied to a branch. For a moment the image of Bri's hair trimmed with ribbons was in Ehjjil's mind, followed by the last memory he had of her, his cries of horror as the crowd pulled her out of the house.

Ehjjil paused and agreed with his brother that, wherever they were going, they were on the right track. Thari pointed out the front, where, on another branch, there was a green ribbon tied, waving like the other. In the next few hours the two followed a trail of colored ribbons that seemed to be leading them both to the deepest reaches of the forest. Sina was a vague memory in their minds, and the one, one, one became one, two, three.

At one point, wherever one looked around, there were several colored ribbons in the trees, Thari and Ehjjil seemed lost in the dance of the tapes, wavering with the last rays of daylight. The two followed the path of the tapes until the sun had set completely, blackening gracefully from the dark trunks of the trees.

In the distance, far, far away, there were dim lights, moving like fireflies. As Ehjjil pointed them at his brother, the two continued their pilgrimage through the dancing colored ribbons toward the magical lights of the forest.

Baal spent all day in his tortuous up-hill march, and this, the mountain, received him maternally, whispering in his ears the way, while the pebbles beneath his feet became wide stones, very well arranged side by side. As the sun set, tinging the sky in shades of orange rose, Baal could see the treetops of the forest beneath him.

In the distance, far, far away, one could see the river of ice sliding down the mountain, reaching Sina and then flowing into the black sea. Baal paused for a moment, saw Sina. And kept following the mother-mountain whispers in his ears, way up, he was getting close.

At Sina, the council of elders and Lord Neimwe were at Gwena's house, the village meeting had taken the rooms and surroundings of her house, the old men sitting around the preacher, his father and his brother, Caslu, also seated. His mother had not come down, perhaps not this time, since the eldest son, Baal, was chosen for the quest, his mother did not leave the room.

Gwena had heard the stories, the values of Sina, the revelations of the messenger, what He allows and what He forbids, everyone knows and the messenger-preacher and his counsel never let any soul in this land forget about its monolithic mantra of the one, one , one. She and Angara were in a constant state of insecurity after the trial of the second witch, it was not known what the limit was. When she crossed with Nur between the intersections, the two could not hide their mourning, this time, Angara drew a handful of herbs from her pocket, holding them out to her, Sina's girl who accepted the gift with a sad smile.

Angara lived in one of the last houses before the abandoned buildings, her daily contact with the forest and the roots of the trees, which became part of her roots as well. His mother, Tino, once told him a story as he braided her hair, but this time it did not sound like Sina's stories; she told him about the woman who lives at the end of time.

"There is an old woman, she lives in a hidden place in the forest, everyone used to know where she was, but few have seen it." Angara complained as her mother tugged her hair. "It's just a knot, girl." "Anyway, she expects those who are looking for something to come to her. She is the life-death-old woman. "

Gwena listened intently to the side, her brown eyes glittering, and as Tino finished the braid of treacherous curves of her daughter's black hair, she continued the story. "She sits atop the mountain, which was baptized by whispering-guiding those who seek for something. Now, - let no one listen to me - she has this name because of the fear that men have over her. "

When the two girls, women, girls-women crossed the village, as they had done so many times, Sina seemed to be closing. The houses seemed closer together, some had already become one, and the narrower alleys being stifled by new construction. It was Angara who guided her friend to the old buildings, breathing the breeze from the forest and feeling the sun shine above them.

The two of them sat on the shabby grass on the bank of the river, picking pebbles with their fingertips, which were frozen in contact with the cold water of the river. It was important that they were not seen on the edge of the village, especially counting pebbles like witches. They both feared the day when, under the influence of the preacher, the first witch would be tried, because she was not the only one. Along with the noise of the river, one could hear the voices of the witches who rest in the background, near the stones. Not that everyone heard, but in the ears of some, their voices echoed all night, their pain was deafening, in each verse they continued to recite their own agony, from their mouths the forbidden language took form in words.

Gwena dug a shallow hole in the ground with her hands while Angara collected some large stones to line the hole, after that part was ready, the two of them began to gather the dry branches that rested around the trees. The first trees at the entrance to the forest, which are the gates to Sina's nightmares, are inviting in the eyes of the two girl-women.

At the entrance to the forest, Gwena dug a small hole in her hands, her verses from the songs of the three young girls. Yes, all three. Al-Lat, Al-Uzza and Manat. Three pomegranate seeds rested under the soft earth as the forest listened to the whispered names. Ehjjil, Baal and Thari.

The dried branches were placed in the pit lined with stones and Angela ascended the fire, which colored the entrance of the forest in orange tones, marking the beginning of the ritual. And around the fire, the two scattered the pebbles, which formed figures and imitated the constellations that adorned the night sky of Sina.

It was not long before the two began to hum the songs in a language that was forbidden by Sina's values, by the council of elders, by Neimwe; The tongue of witches. While decorating their wrists, ankles, and hair with colored ribbons, their voices were completed in synaesthesia with the dance of the ribbons, surrounding the campfire while the girl-girls waved in the firelight and bathed by the moon.

Tonight, the meeting of the village is at the home of the oldest elder of Sina, who collects wrinkles and graffiti on his face, sitting next to him, are his son, and next to him, where his eldest grandson Kaim was supposed to be, was sitting Neimwe, followed by the rest of the council. It was the first night since the three boys were chosen to search the forest, the three youngest heroes of the village, who were revered tonight as well.

Neimwe paid tribute to the three, and their families, grateful for the honor of being honored by the messenger, fell on their knees in front of him, bowing in reverence, their foreheads touching the ground. The elders immediately follow his example.

Then all who were gathered together were seen, both the multitude that gathered in the house and those that remained outside, beginning to kneel, row by row. The movement spreading as if they were stones tossed on one side, all at Neimwe's feet.

While Angela and Gwena danced and sang their verses, an old lady walked up to them and let her voice join the singing, as she spread more pebbles wrapped around the fire, and that, the fire, was shaking loudly, dancing together. After the last pebble, the old woman let go of her gray-white hair, letting the rebelliousness of her wires fly by the dance of the colored ribbons.

The river silveryly reflected the moon when, barefoot, the old woman walked on the green moss that mingled with the sparse grass of the forest entrance. The singing of the girl-women ascended the gates of the forest, but within that the forest repeated the same verses. And the old woman went to the other campfire that was waiting for her.

Angara brought the broom of the two, and already took the herbs hidden among the straw of the broom; swept a circle around the fire, gathering all the pebbles by the fire while Gwena smoked the herbs. At the same time he burned them, she sang to them her sweet verses, from the voices of the three young girls; yes, all three. Al-Lat, Al-Uzza and Manat; fatherless young girls, giggling cheeks and skipping pebbles in the woods.

Herbs scented the place, and the two girls-women stifled the sight of the flames, the starry sky and smoke enveloping them as their chants lifted them. Gwena stared at the fire as the flames transmuted into animal-animal-women before her, and the latter sang together, uttering words in that ancient language that refused to be forgotten.

The two of them sang and danced until another woman walked up to them, the one with her dark hair the same as Angela's in a braid, walked around the fire carrying a basket of flowers covered with colored ribbons, letting some of them fall to the floor. The two of them saw Tino pulling her hair, which danced with the wind the moment they were released, and stepped barefoot on the moss and short grass, entering the forest and following the same path as the old woman.

If he looked down Baal could see, a fire lit by the river and another lit in the middle of the forest. But Baal could not see the third fire burning on the top of the mountain. But this, the mountain, encouraged the tired steps of the young man, his feet touching the stones that formed the way above.

The night had fallen by the time, but Baal did not rest until he reached the point where the stone path ended, giving way to a undergrowth that covered the ground at the top of the mountain of whispers. He had no words to describe her, she, the mountain mother, who guided her steps to the top of the world. That's when he saw it.

And suddenly, Baal came upon her, an old woman with a hooked nose and white hair, she held a leafy branch in her hands, decorated with colored ribbons. The old woman approached and patted the branch on Baal's shoulders as she spoke in a language he did not know. "I do not understand," replied the young man. The old woman came up again and hit him with the branch on her shoulders, talking to the boy. Then he repeated, "I do not understand." And for the third time, when the old woman struck him with the branch on her shoulders, Baal could understand what she was saying, and she answered accordingly.

The words rolled from his tongue as if it were his mother tongue. Mother, yes. Baal caught his breath, but his lips still recited verses for the old witch. She smiled and walked over to him, bent and limp, and wrapped him in a tight embrace that Baal promptly returned with fat tears in his eyes. When the embrace broke, behind the old woman were Maviri, Kaim, and Ridan, full smiles on his lips and open arms to Baal.

Down below, on the forest floor, Thari and Ehjjil were still following the magical fireflies of the forest, and as they went through the colorful choreography of the tapes, their ears were picking up voices by the lights. The brothers followed until they saw a clearing, in the center of it, there was a bonfire over a hole dug in the stone-covered ground. And this, the fire, stretched high celebrating the ritual, throwing incandescent sparks into the air, competing with the silver of the Moon.

Around the campfire, a gray-haired old woman rebelled in the wind, her bare feet wet from the forest floor as she danced. Ehjjil could describe all the animal-women who were projecting themselves from that wise woman, and then joined the fire. Thari untied her boots, tore off her socks from her feet, which now barefoot walked to the fire, where he saw, before his eyes, the wild woman.

The dark, very black hair loosened around the face that belonged to all women-girls-girls. She reached out her hand, and when he reached her his whole body felt the frenzy of freedom, after the first round around the bonfire, Ehjjil joined, dancing barefoot under the sky tinged with dawn.

When the dawn of the second day reached the village, Gwena's mother, Hagar, wept for her son Baal at the entrance to the forest. Beside her, a hole with stones that held fire and ashes from an extinguished fire, but not that the woman noticed. She just lifted her eyes from the floor when she heard the succinct noise of dry branches breaking beneath someone's feet. She, the old woman who lived at the end of time. She, who stretched out her wrinkled hand with long thin fingers like little bones; the woman let go of her hair and followed her forest mother guide inside.

The people of Sina walked the narrow alleys, their sins reflected by the hundreds of small mirrors. And these, the mirrors, were shaken with the wind, along with the drawings made of light, which touched the feet of those who stepped on that earth.

When her mother's feet did not make their way through the old part and between the houses and alleys, Gwena was not saddened. In her first blood, she cried tears of funeral. By the sudden mourning of transmuting from girl to girl-woman to woman. He, his womb, renews himself with the cycles of the Moon, he teaches us to let things go, how to let what is dead leave the body, how to become new; how to regenerate.

It was Hagar herself who passed her wisdom in a forbidden language; "You are born with the ability to make yourself new, let go of what has to go. As long as the Moon dances around us, it will be time for renewal. As long as the path is lit, our bare feet will converse with our roots on the forest floor. "

Gwena braided her hair and went to the house of Angara, trying to walk without bumping into anyone; since people began to build more houses, some stuck in the other, it was difficult to walk in the narrow alleys while some try to cross with goats, firewood or sacks of wheat. The whole path was accompanied by the tinkling of mirrors, more and more numerous in Sina, the drawings of light now forming images that covered from the ground to the wooden walls.

Angara was waiting at the door of the house, with a smile that came to her eyes, a light breeze stubborn with the few dark threads that escaped the braid. The two followed to the old buildings, where the land was good to plant; proud owners of strawberries, beans, peas and tomatoes.

As Gwena snatched up the rebellious little men among the tomatoes, in the distance the bright alleys of the village, her friend dug a small hole in her hands, reciting the sweet songs of the three young girls. Yes, all three. Al-Lat, Al-Uzza and Manat. And as he prepared an altar, Angara deposited two pomegranate seeds in the soft earth, covering them with deep gentleness while whispering the name of Tino and Hagar.

At Sina one could hear the murmur of the people, all hungry for a revelation from the preacher-messenger, meeting in the bright alleys, some hanging small mirrors through the houses. Space was spared with the merchants, fishermen, and cattlemen, all of whom were squeezed like ants.

The sun set on the first day arrived and there had been no news of the return of Baal, Thari, and Ehjjil, the elders disturbed Neimwe by an answer. And it was said that the messenger of Sina said: "The unknown things belong to Him. Blessed be Sina and her messenger. One one one. But the revealed ones belong to us and to our children, and their children, forever, so that we will follow all the laws and values of Sina, blessed be it "- and the old men have calmed down.

When the night embraced the sky, the people gathered in the house of the old Fauti, a brave fisherman who learned from new to listen to the sea. People gathered in front of the house, sitting on the dark stones of the beach as they waited for the preacher-messenger. The elders perched like birds on a branch, while Fauti continued to unscrew shells and pebbles from one of the fishing nets. It was not the same thing to do it alone. She missed her children.

On the second night, the city paid homage to Sina's heroes, Hagar was not present to weep for Baal, but Fauti felt her heart clench as she remembered her sons Thari and Ehjjil. When one lives among splinters of shells and skins kissed by the sun, it is difficult to imagine a life without sand between the fingers, without the scent of the sea, without the black stones covering the dark waters. Without the sea.

It was said that the messenger of Sina said, "Let us walk in the way, and He is the way. May we confess our sins, purified by Him. Blessed be Sina and her messenger. One, one, one. "The elders, perched in a corner received the revelation, and the other old men bowed at the feet of Neimwe reciting the earlier revelations so that all gathered there could follow suit.

Every time we walked through the anchored streets of Sina, people were standing at the intersections between the houses, pieces of mirror covering their faces and their restless hands stopping people. Many stopped to listen to the confessions, the mirrors were no longer sufficient for the atonement of sins. When Angara and Gwena crossed the village, the two of them turned away from anxious hands and petitions for clemency. "Witness my sins, sister." Said someone behind the mirror.

The two sold their tomatoes from house to house until the Sun threatens to hide behind the mountain. As they made their way to the river, Sina's meeting crowded into someone's house, with people crowded into the alley that led the house, completely blocking the way to the old part of town. Angara felt her sweaty hands nervous, pulled her friend into a dark alley, away from the view of the people.

The girl-girls looked at each other and knew that Sina's witch-hunt had not ended. The tension between them increased as the two of them heard footsteps toward the narrow intersection between the two. In front of them was a young woman, hair stuck like any in Sina - her eyes, caught in the figure of the two - her wrists, adorned with colored ribbons. Gwena let out a breath that she did not know she was holding. She, the girl-girl of Sina. She stretched out her hand.

The three of them skirted the city, Nur leading Angara and Gwena along an unknown path, at the end of the brief walk they reached the river with bare feet and loose hair. Yes, all three. Young girls singing forbidden songs, giggling cheeks and skipping pebbles in the woods. The fire was lit again, and the ritual began again, tingling the tall trees of the forest entrance with orange tones.

Fall on Sina, the night of the third day. The monophony of the messenger and his one, one, one boiled the spirits inside the village, the fear of the unknown was firewood for the fire of Neimwe. At the meeting of the third night, when the heroes of Sina did not return, two men revolted, demanding answers from the preacher. It was said that the messenger of Sina said: "Having subdued those who do not fully trust Him and His messenger, sinners do not take as forbidden that which was forbidden by Him and His messenger. Blessed be Sina and her messenger. One one one."

The elders accepted the revelation, and so did all the people. The two men were taken to the beach, where all the people followed the messenger until one could see the silver reflection of the moon over the black sea. His arms were pinned behind his body, his ankles tied tightly together, next to them, several heavy stones were trapped.

Old Fauti refused to take them, so the two men were put on another fisherman's boat, which rowed until the waters beneath them were deep enough. From the beach, one could hear only the sound of the two falling into the water; when the fisherman returned, they all followed the alleys and intersections, some diverting from the murmured confessions behind mirrors, while others sought for some soul to witness their sins. For some, the evening of the third day was marked with the realization that Ridan, Maviri and Kaim would not return to Sina, and that with them Baal, Ehjjil, and Thari also departed.

At the entrance to the forest, the three girl-women recited songs, their bare feet touching the earth beneath them, radiating beneath their bodies as the flame flashed their oscillating colors over their skin. There was also the wind, fluttering loose-free-hair as they danced. Their songs, sweet songs from the three fatherless girls. Yes, all three. Al-Lat, Al-Uzza and Manat.

Behind one of Sina's old buildings, two young boys watched, their eyes glittering with the sight of the spirits dancing with the young girls. The forest continued to invite the boys, and from above, she, the mountain, whispered with the wind in an ancient language. When the tapes danced as well, swinging under the frenzy of dance, the boys-men joined the fire, their bodies taken by the expression of the chaos and ecstasy that preceded the destruction. When they opened their eyes, without realizing at first that they had closed them. There was creation magic. When Gwena, Anggara and Nur opened their eyes, not realizing at first that they had closed them, the two boys-men followed the forest inside, their bare feet and their fingers intertwined.

Within the forest, the murmurs of that forbidden language could be heard, the voices coming from all sides spoke, united, communicated, learned, and taught. Around the campfire, the three were preparing to undertake a journey, broomsticks in hand, they opened and lit the way while the moon danced in its orbit. In one of the verses they sang; "A journey. It's to go and then come back. If we do not travel. We will not be back. We did not learn from the path. "None of the three saw how many souls followed the forest path that night, lit by the fire, bare feet still touching the wet ground as the senses realized that it was not the forest that smelled of freedom, freedom it smelled like the forest.

From inside the river of ice, two women emerged, their bodies bare by the moon's silver reflection, their bare feet walking out of the water. From their mouths words began to come, and their singing joined Gwena's, Nur's, and Ange's, and the two sorceresses of the river lifted their faces to the sky. The moon still danced in its orbit around this sacred land, the road was still lit, for Bri and the outsider, it was time for renewal. The two became one with the forest again, their arms stretching high as the branches of the trees, their bare feet touching the ground and taking root.

Before the evening fire of the third day had subsided, the girls-women, all of them, followed the whisperings of the mountain themselves, but before beginning the journey, five shallow holes were dug with their hands, and these were the rest of five pomegranate seeds. And these, the seeds, were the only witnesses of rebirth, blessed - truly - by the miracle of destruction-creation.

At Sina, blind faith was the grinding knife. There lived a bitter and superstitious people, following the revelatory word of their messenger-preacher. One one one. Blessed be Sina and her messenger.


End file.
